Of life, tension, death

Technically, it’s August 1, 12:29am as I’m typing this, but we’ll consider this our monthly entry for July.

One of my youth pastors died during the height COVID-19 on July 29, 2021. We had a memorial service in his honor for the first time onsite a couple of days ago, and GCF’s Auditorium A was full of familiar faces, a reunion of sorts for the Youth Ministry. We also had a couple kids of the aforementioned youth-turned-adults running around, which always delights (and dismays?) me. How fast, the flow of time.

One of the people asked to give his eulogy was D, and his resonated with me the most, because the way he remembered P. Eug best reflected how I remember him, too. I asked for his written eulogy, which D graciously sent over to me, and I quote:

“To me, Pastor Eugene was the prime example that being great doesn’t require grand gestures, but rather is done through small, humble acts that touch the lives of those around us.”

And another:

“This brings me to another remarkable trait of Pastor Eugene: he is always honest about himself and honest to others… In a world where making people feel good about themselves often takes precedence over honesty, P. Eug in his most loving way, was never afraid to point out when I was wrong. He knew his role was not to please but to teach, mentor, and guide, always grounding his truth from scripture.”

D mentioned that we can really celebrate P. Eug‘s life by, “embracing his values of humility, fellowship, and truth”. How succinct. I’d probably add humor, too. P. Eug had a perpetual smiling face, when he wasn’t laughing or making jokes.

It was interesting to me that while the worship hall was full of familiar faces from the Youth Ministry, there were still more faces that didn’t register. His connection to CDO, his Burning Hearts GG, and his contribution to the Connect Ministry seemed to take precedence over his engagement as a Youth Pastor, and isn’t that fascinating?

I didn’t know all his other facets as a church leader, least of all as a husband and father (which were likely his most treasured roles), but the one facet I did know made such a lasting impact to the youth he shepherded—it’s not even the role he’s most remembered for!

On the way home, I wondered what I would’ve said, had I been asked to give his eulogy. He and I were not as close as his disciplees, obviously, or his childhood friends, or his ministry partners, but I do have a memory with P. Eug that I hold close to me, which I’ve never written down. It’s seared in my memory, though.

P. Eug taught theology classes in church for the youth. You can see a couple of those in the images above, and we met regularly for I don’t know how long. But there was a time when he and I were in STRATA 100 getting snacks or something from the now non-existent foodcourt. I was pestering him about something I couldn’t figure out: “If predestination is true, and when we finally cross the line from lost to found, from death to life, and we realize that He chose us all along, all this time, then why doesn’t He do it for everyone? Why doesn’t He choose everyone? You and I both know He can.” (Note: Question is obviously not verbatim.)

And the truth is, I don’t remember his answer—something about God’s wisdom, character, sovereignty, or some other. It was an unfair question, and answers may always prove unsatisfactory, but I was young and grappling and trying to make sense of His Person, if He was trustworthy, if I can take Him at His Word. Those are things I’m still doing in my mid-30s, but my questions are different now.

_{(If you’re interested, I did a quick search. If you want answers from an old man I affectionately call Lolo Piper, go here, and if you’re comfortable with questions, here’s a queen I think we lost too soon who talks about her evolving belief systems.)}

P. Eug and I were alone, me so heavy-hearted about this question, and him patiently giving me the space to wrestle. I was grasping at straws, asking question after question, referring to certain verses that seems to contradict each other, wondering if God really cares. He took on my rambling patiently, calmly, graciously. By the time actual tears were leaving my eyeballs, hunched down with my shoulders trembling, he sat opposite me in silence. I couldn’t see him, but I could sense he wasn’t made uncomfortable by a young woman’s earnest confusion, pain, frustration. I think, and I might be wrong, but he stayed and let me cry and it didn’t feel cruel. There was no ego in him.

When we started walking back to GCF, I didn’t have any certainty or any answers. I don’t go around with much certainty even today, but P. Eug did give me a lesson anyway: Being a pastor might mean knowing how to sit in the tension between life and death, trusting in the One who holds it all together. P. Eug never made it about himself.

P. Eug was a pastor in all the ways that mattered. He really knew us, got in the mud with us, and stood by us. I don’t know if this is true for all the rest of the youth, but I always thought I could talk to him. His office as a pastor made him more approachable, not less.

Because of him, I saw a glimpse of just how special it is to be in the proximity of a pastor who handles the Word excellently, as opposed to a preacher who handles his flock only out of duty. What a blessing my church is to me, introducing me to leaders of his caliber.

Thanks for being Christ-like to your kids, P. Eug.
We lost a good one.

For the Lord will not cast off forever, but, though he cause grief, he will have compassion according to the abundance of his steadfast love; for he does not afflict from his heart or grieve the children of men.

– Lamentations 3:31-33 ESV

(If you knew him, do you have any memories of him you can share with me? PM or leave a comment. I’d love to read them.)